


The Long Con

by Chubbycubby



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, big dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chubbycubby/pseuds/Chubbycubby
Summary: What's all this nonsense about killing creatures for their anima? You have a far more efficient way to get twice as much, and get laid to boot!
Relationships: Sire Denathrius/You
Kudos: 83





	The Long Con

Sire Denathrius decided on a more subtle course solution to controlling the Maw Walker. Instead of letting you roam Revendreth, being influenced by whomever crossed your path, he would keep you occupied with court parties and relaxation. Here in his chambers, he could keep you away from the rabble with all manner of food, music, and courtiers you could dream of.

You only accepted because you want Sire Denathrius’ dick, but you doubt the Sire even has something to sire with, seeing that you inquiries on the subject warranted explanations of anima magic and little in the way of physical description. So far, your quest to get laid has been a bust, and Sire seems three hundred percent oblivious to your true aim despite your enthusiasm in getting into his private chamber.

Still, you’re in his chambers, and that’s a start! Denathrius reclines on an enormous bed, probably the only piece of furniture in Revendreth that can accommodate his size and inverted knees. Now to get rid of all the venthyrs milling about, sounding somewhere between a lot of worgen and the worst kind of Stormwind snobs.

“Shall we get down to the matter at hand?” you say, giving the attendants a pointed look. They glance at each other, unsure what the proper etiquette is in such a sitatuin, but upon receiving more pointed stares from you, they all shuffle out. Step one, get alone with The Master, is finally complete.

“Maw Walker, please!” Denathrius says jovially, “We have no business today. You are my guest! You have regaled me with your _harrowing_ tales and I think you need a moment away from all that chaos. Think not of the drought or your worries. Relax!”

“Ah, but this realm offers little relief to my most mortal needs,” you say, aping the venthyr style of speech.

Your eyes fall to his sash, leaving no room for misinterpretation of your words. Denathrius does not find himself opposed on principle, nor on ability, but practicality is the final arbiter of the issue. A living soul, a mortal, is practically a font of anima, something he would love to take, but alas, you’re only knee-high to him.

He mulls over his words carefully. “Perhaps there is some other thing that may comfort you.”

Feigning fatigue, you reply, “Your bed looks so comfortable, compared to this dusty, velvet chair.”

He wonders if all mortals have the subtlety of brick through a window, but he acquiesces to you by shifting over and gesturing to the ample empty space. He holds slim hope that lying next to him will remind you of the pure impossibility of such an arrangement, but you nestle against him and, without a hint of shame, finger the banner that covers his modesty. He humors you, stroking your head and back with one finger, and that only proves to embolden you. You curl up even closer, letting your head “coincidentally” rest near his groin.

“Oh mortal,” he chuckles, “Shall I call my attendants to serve you, someone of a more appropriate stature?”

You peer up at him and murmur, “I want you, Sire.” with squeezing his leg.

He waits for you to withdraw the remark, but your gaze is so steadfast that he must reply: “Surely you realize there is a stark incongruity between us, mortal. I am certain the terror of its size would frighten you to death.”

Your sweet expression turns sour and scramble up to his chest, grabbing his lapels before snapping:

“Listen here, _sire_ , I have fought the endless scourge. I killed my own relatives as they shambled out of their graves. I traveled to another world and flattened the Burning Legion after they razed countless worlds, and then went _back_ to my world to strike down the Lich King himself. I’ve killed gods. I jumped into the Maw _twice_ and I know I’ll do it again. If you think I am scared of a _big dick_ than you are a **fool!** ”

It took Denathrius a long, long time to recover from your insult, but when he did, he resolves to break your cavalier attitude with action, not words. When he casts his belt to the floor, it clambers as loud as the Bastion vespers, but that does little to deter you. Your hands immediately go to newly revealed the bulge, but he catches your wrist with two fingers.

The other hand gently cups under your chin, so he can kiss you delicately, though the his lips practically overwhelms your face. That absolutely does not stop you from slipping your tongue in, eliciting a startled but pleasant hum from him. He returns the gesture, filling your mouth with just the very tip before pulling back and laughing smugly at your shameless lust and sin.

Denathrius slides one finger under your cloth robe, delicately following the form of your body as he pulls it over your head. You’re wearing only a linen shirt underneath, but it’s practically sheer and does little in the way of modesty. He easily lifts you with one hand so he cantrace the outside of your sex, the hottest part. What were theses called again? Humans? They seem to have such interesting reactions to such a slight touch.

“So eager…” he murmurs as he traces the slit slowly before lifting it to his lips.

You grab his horns for purchase as his hot breath warms your sex. Before you can wonder how his breath is warm, The Master parts you with his lips.He take a long times to explore each of the tiny folds with the tip of his tongue until he discovers a place where it can sink in deeper. You shudder all over, encouraging to delve deeper into the space and taste the sweet center on this anima font. He curls his tongue and you whimper as he winds it around the folds, reveling in your lusty cries.

He tilts his hand slightly, allowing him better access to his favorite place, the one that made waves of your wet cover his tongue. He rubs your chest with your thumb, letting the linen shirt brush your nipples as you come for him over and over. The Master wonders if he could possibly keep you as a pet, like an eternal well of pleasure and filth. Your sin and anima are unlike anything he ever tasted, your cries of pleasure unlike most anything he ever heard.

“Sire!” you cry for him as he tongue slowly works one place over and over at a punishingly slow pace, “Sire! I’m going to- c-c- come for y-!”

Your breathing hitches and a wave of sweet anima drips down your wall and onto his tongue and into his mouth. He presses you flush against him, hoping it will happen again, and again, until you have no more words and he’s drank all of your endless nectar. His tongue plies deeper, as he plans exactly how to keep you as his living well of shame, sin, and sex.

“Sire!” you cry as you begin to fuck yourself on his tongue. “I want your dick! I want your dick!”

He swirls his tongue inside of you, but your begging does not stop. He suspects you know his tactic, and that’s only inciting more defiance. When you begin pulling at his hair, Denthrius pulls you from his mouth with a sucking kiss that leaves strands of wet from your pussy to his lips. He gently places you on the mattress where you pant and recover for long minutes as he further undresses himself.

“Master,” you whimper, “Please! I need your cock.”

Denathrius cocks an eyebrow and lays next to you, remarking, “I still don’t think you have any concept of _scale.”_

“You have no concept of how much I want you inside,” you spurt back weakly.

Seeing that you won’t be reasoned with, he leans forward, letting his cock rest across your body. It’s smooth and dark red, and tapers to a rounded point instead of having a head. By your rough estimation, it’s about twenty-two inches long, give or take, and you can wrap both hands around it with very little overlap by the time you’re halfway down the shaft.

“Now do you see?” The Master says, though he should have known better than to provoke you. You begin rearranging the various sheets and pillows so you can sit up without effort, and then position yourself so you’re parallel to his cock. Denathrius could simply roll off of his side and onto his back, but his curiosity outweighs his prudence, and he lets your warm hands run along the length.

You kiss the very tip a few times before parting your lips and licking it. You practically have to unhinge your jaw, but it hardly slows you; you’ve been waiting for this since the moment you were introduced to the sire. The skin is not as soft as a human’s dick, but still smooth and pliant so that your tongue can massage the sensitive flesh underneath, You slowly work your way down his cock, his breathy gasps and confused low groans urging you on.

Denathrius hadn’t expected that your saliva would a completely different kind of anima. This kind sinks into his flesh slowly and invigorating him with warmth and pleasure until his mind is clear of anything except how much he loves getting his dick sucked. The act never made sense until now, but now he never wanted that heat or wet to leave him. He struggles not to plunge his cock deep into your throat and accommodate himself, his hand tearing into his thigh as the other one gently strokes the back of your head. He knows he cannot just force you down, and begins devising other ways to have more of his immense length satisfied.

You suck in your cheeks as your pull back slowly, making his legs spasm until you finally pull off the tip with a sucking kiss. You tilt your head to the right and drag your tongue down the side of his shaft as far as you can before doubling back. You reposition yourself for the second pass, so your tongue can reach farther down, towards the immense base of his dick. You give that place tender attention before your tongue travels back up to the tip, earning a shudder from his legs.

“Now to ride that dick,” you declare.

“It’s so big…” he says, glancing down where to his shaft resting next to your delicate body.

“Sit up,” you say, giving his thigh a slap.

He obeys, but still protests, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry! I’ve been puzzling this out since we met,” you say. “I’m not going to impale myself on your dick, completely anyways. I’ll be on my hands and knees, facing the same way as you, and I’ll sit back on it. That way I can control it, and don’t take more than I can handle. You just lay there and enjoy yourself, big boy.”

Denathrius is so stunned by the idea, and the nickname, that feels he has no choice but to follow your command. You push his legs, signaling for them to be apart and crawl backwards until your close to his length. Your linen shirt is finally discarded, so he sheds the robe that was once tucked into his pants before pointing his hips down to help with the immense difference in sizes. Still unconvinced you’ll fuck such a big thing, he take his cock in his hand and presses the tip against your entrance. You give an approving cry, and he slowly moves it up and down to spread your wet.

Before he changes his mind, you shimmy back and guide his cock to open to fill you. Even though his massive tongue stretched you earlier, the initial fullness is enough to make your eyes roll back and your lips tremble. Slowly working it in and out, you edge yourself onto more and more until a solid seven inches of enormous dick is inside of you. You hear the thud of The Master’s head resting against the wall behind him and a strangled groan, which only encourages you to take a bit more before you take a long pause to let your body adjust. You’re absolutely certain you’ve never had this much inside of you, and there’s no way you won’t be sore tomorrow, but it’s too good to stop now.

You roll your hips, allowing the smallest bit more inside before sliding it back out, then taking that much more again and again. With deep breaths, your body relaxes and allows such a big cock inside. Your wet is endless and rolling down the unused length, preparing it for the next push deeper. Just when you swear you can’t take anymore, a racking orgasm allows your body to relax just a bit more.

Denathrius looks down at his cock, unable to comprehend how sinful and wicked a creature must be to so shamelessly fuck his dick no matter what. His cock going into such a small creature doesn’t even seem real, nor tight, warm, wet space doesn’t feel sensation that jolted his spine. Your slowness the only reason he hasn’t already covered you in his seed, but that hesitation is ebbing into passion with every passing second. His fingers dig into the silk sheets that he’s vaguely aware he’s shredding, but he needs to concentrate on self-control. It is one thing for him to allow a sinner to use him for their sin, but he _would not participate_. His patience is rewarded a half-inch at a time until he swears half of it is buried inside of you.

You know you can’t take much more, so you fuck yourself on what length you can take, slowly picking up speed as your hips bounce up and down his shaft. It fills you so completely it’s as if every fold has been stretched around him so that every nerve-ending can enjoy his huge cock. Denathrius’ left hand spasms, and you hear the tearing of his silk sheets mixed with mindless moaning and mumbling.

“Damn daddy!” you say, as his whole body trembles, “Do you wanna fill me?”

He barely knows what that means, and yet somehow he know the answer, “Yes…”

“Fill me, daddy,” you say as your shift back, burying a half-inch of his cock in you.

He groans, staring down at your blatant, shameless sin, which only makes his body tense further.

“I want all of it!”

“Pl- please-”

“Please! Give it to-”

Denathrius leans forward to cover your mouth, hoping to stop your filthy moans, vaguely aware that “it” would be his own anima. The shift pushes his dick just the smallest bit deeper, and you clamp around him with another, rocking orgasm, filled with fresh anima that sends chills down his spine. The immense girth finally stops you from moving at all; simply having such a large cock inside is enough to keep your pleasure heightened.

“Be good,” he breathes as his fingers slip from your mouth.

“Damn that’s a big dick!” you whimper, unable to think of anything else.

“So… sinful-!”

“Sire me, daddy Denathrius!” you cry out.

“Wh-”

“Breed me!”

“Br- Br-”

“Breed me!” you cry out.

He can’t hold himself back any longer. He grabs your hips, sits back on his ass, and pumps you over his cock, barely having the self-control to only fuck you with what’s already wet. Over and over, your tight hole pleasures his entire cock until a strange tension builds in his stomach. He should stop, or at least slow, but a deep, carnal need spurs him to keep using you like his personal sex doll.

He cuts off his own groans with a swell from his cock that he was sure would tear your apart. He quickly pulls you off, but you grab his wrist to stop him when only the tapered tip is left. The Master obeys the plea and utterly fill you with thick, hot anima that’s already dripping out of you and down your legs.Not wanting to waste his seed, he pushes you back onto his cock, so he can pump the last of his seed into you. One his sense return, he’s quick to pull you off and gently place you beside him, where you pant with soreness and pleasure.

“Let me… clean you up,” Sire Denathrius says, “After… my nap.”

Sire Denathrius promptly slumps over and begins sleeping like he’s dead. You’re not certain that would be a good thing, so you hope he’s just hibernating or something, and he can recover he can just reabsorb the anima covering his dick, or maybe some of the stuff of the… walls? The walls?! When…?

Well, that doesn’t matter. What matters is phase two.

\- - -

“Where did you get all of this?” The Accuser asks as you pull yet another anima container from your bag.

“The Master gave it to me,” you answer.

“Gave… you? This is quite a lot.”

“Oh yes!” you say. “He definitely gave it to me. Don’t worry, I didn’t take everything. Some of it was… uh. Not salvageable.”

“Salvageable? I thought he gave it to you,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

“He did! He definitely, absolutely, gave it to me.”

“What about that necklace you’re wearing? I don’t recall you wearing it before, but I _do_ recall The Master wearing it.”

“This? Oh! I got this from a friend,” you say, because drawers you rummage through during your paramour’s post-nut-nap count as friends.

“Are you-”

A roar echoes across the Revendreth, no doubt Sire Denathrius waking up to realize he’s been tricked. You begin backing away from the scene, but The Accuser is not done with you.

“And your clothes!” she snaps, “What happened to your mage’s robes?”

“They got ruined- Hey! Listen, I’m going to be in Oribosrecovering-”

“Recovering?!”

“-for awhile, so you do what you need with this, and uh, if anyone asks, it wasn’t me.”

“Mortal? What did you do? Mortal!” The Accuser calls out, but you’ve already disappeared into the shadows, as rogues are wont to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I wanted to tag this more, but typing "Big load" generates 3,000 Big Bang themed tags, and the "Big Dick" suggestions were....... not what I was looking for......


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